42. Claire
Claire
Islipped into the current of dancers, letting the rhythm carry me forward—one turn, another—until I collided with him. Garrick caught me easily.
“My apologies,” I said sweetly. “I seem to have lost my partner.”
His eyes flickered over me, lingering just a moment too long. The wine had loosened the careful restraint he usually wore.
“I find myself suddenly available,” he replied smoothly, though there was a faint slur beneath the charm. “If you would allow me.”
I smiled.
“Of course.”
His hand settled at my waist, guiding me into the dance. We moved together across the floor, the music carrying us in slow, elegant turns. To anyone watching, it would have looked effortless. Intimate, even.
“How curious,” Garrick murmured, studying me as we turned. “I do not recognize you.”
I tilted my head, letting the light catch just enough of my mask. “It is a masquerade ball, after all. Where would be the fun if you recognized everyone?”
That earned me a small, amused breath.
We spun once more, closer this time, his grip tightening as the music slowed.
“I prefer to know the names of those I dance with.”
I let the silence stretch just long enough to matter. Then I leaned in, close enough that my lips nearly brushed his ear.
“I imagine you prefer knowing far more than names,” I murmured.
He stilled.
I continued, my voice still soft, still sweet. “But I do wonder,” I added, almost thoughtfully, “what the court might say… if they believed you had been less than careful with your affections.”
“I’m not sure I follow,” he said, though the edge in his voice betrayed him.
“Oh?” I hummed. “Perhaps I should be clearer.”
I pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, letting my fingers rest against his shoulder.
“To be seen with you is one thing, but to suggest that our time together left me with a condition?”
I let the word linger. The color drained from his face.
“Imagine the whispers, the speculation—the concern for the women of Norwich. Your reputation would shatter. Even so, how would you come back from that? No more mistresses, of course.”
His jaw tightened.
“Nobody would believe you,” he seethed under his breath.
“Some would.”
“You’re a nobody.”
At that, I felt myself smirking from under my mask.
“I’m a nobody who would love to see your fall from status.”
“What do you want?” he asked quieter.
My eyes narrowed.
“Release her.”
“Who?”
“Ash.”
His grip tightened again and he swore under his breath, but he couldn’t look away. Indeed, he recognized me.
“And if I refuse?”
“Then I suppose, I’ll have to be very brave and very public about my unfortunate circumstances. And I hate keeping secrets.”
We continued swaying, but he tripped over my foot. He glanced around. I clicked my tongue, nodding to another woman. A beautiful redhead.
“I could start with her.”
Garrick twirled me, my dress flaring beautifully as though we were simply another couple lost in the music.
“Or,” I purred, glancing toward a woman with long, dark hair. “I could tell her. The rumor would spread like wildfire.”
“You’re being dramatic,” he murmured through clenched teeth.
“Am I? I do suppose I could make it worse.”
He stiffened.
I brightened. “Oh yes, much worse. I could cry.”
His step faltered.
“Not loudly, of course,” I continued, as if we were discussing something terribly mundane. “Just enough. Perhaps with a tremble in the voice and a handkerchief for good measure.” I gestured delicately. “Perhaps I faint out of fear and say that –”
“You wouldn’t dare,” he hissed.
I smiled up at him, radiant.
“Your Grace, I have already dared.”
He spun me again, and when I came back to him, his grip was tighter, his composure fraying at the edges.
“You’re bluffing.”
“Then call it. I’m sure everyone would love a bit of excitement this evening. This party is mundane. The host should be disappointed.”
As if on cue, I let my gaze drift this time toward a cluster of women nearby. I even took a small step in their direction.
Garrick’s hand snapped around my wrist.
“Wait.”
I looked back at him. “Yes?”
His eyes darted briefly across the room as if he could already see it unfolding. The slow, delicious collapse of everything he had so carefully built.
“You’ll ruin me,” he admitted quietly.
I gave a soft, almost apologetic shrug.
A long, strained silence stretched between us as we continued to move, the dance now little more than a formality.
Finally—
“Fine. You’ll have what you want.”
“Will I?”
“Yes,” he snapped under his breath. “The contract will be dissolved. She’ll be free.”
I studied him for a moment and smiled.
“See?” I said brightly, as the music swelled around us. “That wasn’t so difficult.”
His expression darkened.
“You are a menace.”
I beamed.
“I’ve been told.”